


Frank Castle and the Meaning of After

by geez



Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Post Season 1, Speculation, frank doesn't know how to do second chances, karen shows him how, micro is a good bro, slow and steady wins the race, we deserve a soft epilogue my love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-03 18:53:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12754146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geez/pseuds/geez
Summary: The two of them, they’re freight trains on a collision course with each other and they’ve always known it. It’s been that way since the very first time she spoke to him, got right into his face with a picture of his family and a promise for answers. They were meant for this from the moment Karen crossed that red line.





	Frank Castle and the Meaning of After

**Author's Note:**

> So I was, in short, floored by the Punisher. I thought it was amazing and it's definitely my favorite Marvel series. Jon Bernthal is just an amazing actor, and of course all the Kastle parts were nothing short of miraculous. 
> 
> I wanted to write something exploring a bit of the after that frank has at the end of the show, what he does with it, how he copes. Hope you like it!

He’s still having some trouble with it, you know? This sudden freedom, this end to an endless war. By all rights, it don’t make much sense. 

Frank Castle is a free man. 

It’s probably the first time since he was eighteen, a green recruit shipping off to Parris Island, that he hasn’t had any sort of higher power to answer to. Be it the American government, his family, or his own eternal hunger for vengeance, there’s always been meaning to his days. There’s always been a mission. Frank’s entire adult life has been in service of some greater cause, and now it seems as if everything has just - stopped. 

Karen had said she wanted there to be an after for him and he knows she meant well but right now this after, and all of its crippling possibility, seems like the greatest torture you could ever wish upon a person. 

How does a man who was so long dead learn how to live again? 

He’s over at the Liebermans’ house, fixing a drafty window because David is shit with tools and cheap as fuck now that he’s out of a job, when the curly-haired nerd brings her up. “So have you talked to your girlfriend yet?” David asks, sipping a beer as casual as you please, unaware that Frank is vaguely contemplating punching him in the face. Stupid prick still got on his nerves, don’t let Frank’s charity fool you - he likes the kids too much to let them live in a house with shitty windows. 

“She ain’t my girlfriend, man.” Frank finally says, fidgeting with the window pane too harshly. 

“Oh, so we just go chasing lunatic bombers around hotels for our friends now, do we?” Micro chortles. “Because I thought we only went to extraordinary measures for family. I could be wrong though.” 

“Jesus Christ, man, what do you want me to say?” He snaps, throwing the screwdriver back into the toolbox. “Karen’s just- she’s special, okay? End of story.” 

“You compared her to Sarah, Frank.” Frank huffs and shakes his head, refuses to meet David’s eyes. “When you heard that guy was going after her. You asked me what I would do for Sarah.” 

“Yeah, I suppose I did...” There’s an awkward pause then, where neither man really knows what to do. Frank is still strung out at the turn of the conversation and David is just this side of socially awkward that he can’t quite think of what to say. 

Finally, though, he clears his throat with another swig of beer. “We both know what that meant, I think. We both know how special that is.” 

Frank scrunches his nose, picks the screwdriver up again. “Yeah.” 

When it’s clear he isn’t going to say anything more David sighs and stands from his chair. “Men like us don’t often get second chances, Frank. I’d hate to see you waste yours.” 

Frank fixes the window and leaves without a word. Stews over his friend’s words for half a day.

~

It’s too easy to get into Karen’s building, which is something he has to talk to her about later, when his heart isn’t leaping out of his chest. Frank knocks on her door quickly, gives a half smile when he hears the hesitation on the other side. Say what you want about the situations Karen gets herself into but the woman knows how to watch her back. He stays within view of the peephole, let’s her see him. The locks are quickly unbolted, the door hastily opened. 

She looks like she’s seeing a ghost. That’s definitely his fault, the incident at the carousel had been on the news and he’d disappeared off the map, it wouldn’t have been a big leap to make. 

“Oh my god, Frank.” Karen finally whispers before pulling him into a fierce hug. Her arms loop around his shoulders like it’s nothing, like he isn’t a murderer and a dead man and a finished story. Frank finds himself frozen against the onslaught of emotion. He doesn’t know how to do this anymore. He _can’t_ do this anymore, this was a mistake, coming here was a mistake, he shouldn't've - 

He’s hugging her back. Fiercely, possessively, probably enough to hurt, but Frank can’t make himself stop. His arms are wound around her waist and he pulls Karen closer, buries his head into her shoulder like he’d done the first time she hugged him. 

That hug had been the first kind touch Frank’d received since Maria died. At the time, he had thought that was what was so intoxicating about it. Now he knows it’s just the effect Karen has on him. 

“Hey, Karen.” Frank murmurs into her shoulder, breathes in her scent just because he can. 

Karen pulls away from him, looking a little shaky but still possessing her ethereal beauty. “I saw the news, there was no talk about bodies but I figured Homeland Security can probably do whatever they want.” She says with a soft laugh, brushing her hair from her face. 

Frank watches her- catches the glint of tears in her eyes and starts feeling a little guilty. “Yeah, I, uh, I shoulda called. Shoulda let you know I was okay.” 

“Probably.” She agrees, brushing by him to enter her kitchen. Karen opens the fridge and the glow from the inside frames her silhouette, making her look like the avenging angel she is. “You want a beer, Frank?” 

“What, that gonna be our thing now?” He asks, tilting his head with an amused look in his eye. 

Karen shrugs, pulls two beers out and closes the fridge behind her. “I wouldn’t mind.” Her blue eyes are open and breezy, reminding him of summer vacations and peace. Frank finds himself wondering how this woman can go from kind smiles and soft touches to shooting men without a second thought. It’s more than a little concerning how much that dichotomy does it for him. Jesus, he’s a messed up fuck. 

Frank takes the beer she’s offering, and it feels like a storm brewing beneath the surface when their fingers brush together. 

Karen smiles briefly at him before bringing the open bottle to her lips and Frank wonders if her skin is humming too. “So what are you doing here, Frank?” 

He’s silent for a few moments, mostly because he can’t even think of where to begin. The end, how it all went down with Billy and then them just letting him go, none of it seems real. “You remember what you said, about wanting there to be an after? Well - here we are.” The look on her face is searching, as if she doesn’t quite understand. Frank doesn’t either, to be perfectly honest, so he continues. “Yeah, the feds, they uh, they switched out my prints and shit in the databases, made it all disappear. Looks like I’m a free man now.” 

“Wow, Frank, that’s...that’s amazing.” She says, and he knows that she means it by the way her body sways in place for a brief moment. She’s happy for him. Not for the first time Frank thinks that it doesn’t make any sense that Karen Page cares for him. 

“Yeah, you’d think so.” Frank takes a long pull of the beer, relishing in the distraction of it. “Problem is, I know fuck all what to do with it. I’ve never not been fighting a war and now they tell me all the wars are over.” He huffs out a bitter laugh, a cruel smile twisting his lips. “Ain’t that a kick in the head. The man caught in a perpetual war gets handed a get outta jail free card and it turns out he’s too broken to make any use of it.” 

“You’re not broken, Frank. You’ve just been...caught in this violent cycle for so long that you need some time to figure out how to exist outside of it.” 

His eyebrows scrunch together and he looks away from her, into some unknown distance, considering. “Mm, and what if I can’t, huh? What if that’s just not who I am anymore?” 

“Then I guess you learn how to be someone else.” Karen says simply, batting his worries away like they’re nothing. As if _it’s simple_. 

“You make it sound real easy, Karen.” 

She looks him straight in the eye, daring as daybreak, and Frank wants more than anything to know what her story is. The whole thing. “People learn how to be someone else all the time. It’s how they cope. Things get too hard, something happens, and the only way out is to - be something different. Something better.” 

“So what do I do, Karen? Because I sure as shit don’t know.” He tries to speak as softly as he can, to not come off as a complete asshole, because this is one of those moments where he genuinely wants her opinion. 

“What do you want to do, Frank?” She asks, just as softly, and Frank is sure that the emotion in his eyes matches hers. The two of them, they’re freight trains on a collision course with each other and they’ve always known it. It’s been that way since the very first time she spoke to him, got right into his face with a picture of his family and a promise for answers. They were meant for this from the moment Karen crossed that red line. 

Frank doesn’t say anything, just puts his bottle onto the nearest surface and steps slowly towards her, eyes locked the entire time, giving her an out if she wants it. He should know better than to believe she’ll take it. When he’s right up in her space, their breath intermingling, Karen reaches her hand out and grasps his bicep, just like she did that day in the elevator. Frank’d almost lost her that day, to pure, unadulterated nonsense to be sure, but almost lost her all the same. He remembers needing to be near her, to feel the warmth of her skin, because his heart was beating too quickly and that was the only way he could think of to calm down. 

He’d nearly done this then, too. 

“Frank?” Karen calls to him, her voice barely above a whisper, and he realizes that he’s just been staring at her lips like some kind of idiot. God, Maria is probably laughing her ass off somewhere. 

“Karen, I-I want-” He stops short, doesn’t know how to say it. 

Karen looks at him, half crazed with want. Her entire body is leaning into him and Frank just now realizes his hands have planted themselves on her waist. “Say it, Frank, I need you to say it.” She commands. He can only ever answer. 

“You.” He finally says into the scarce space between his lips and hers. “I want you.” 

She flashes him a smile and they both go in at the same time, meeting somewhere between a summer breeze and a stormcloud. God, she tastes amazing, feels even better. Her lips are hungry and searching and it takes everything within Frank to slow them down because he will take his time, dammit, they’ve got enough of it. Now. 

He pulls away, just be a fraction, and shushes her when she groans in protest. Karen’s eyes flash dangerously, asking him silently what the hell he’s playing at. Frank strokes his hands down her sides, bringing them around her back to pull her closer to him. Tries to say with his touch that he wants them to go slow. She seems to get it because her body softens against his and the fight goes out of her eyes. Frank’s smile is equal parts satisfaction and adoration when he claims her lips again. 

This time it’s all slow exploration, the gentle discovery of their tongues brushing against each other, wandering hands creeping under shirts to get to warm skin. Their breathing is harsh in the otherwise quiet apartment but to Frank it’s a sort of music. 

Karen turns them and begins walking backwards to what he assumes is her bedroom. She could be gearing up to push him out a window, for all he knows, seeing as how the only thing in the world that seems real right now is her. 

They stumble into her bedroom, his jacket lost somewhere during the journey, leaving only an old wifebeater. Karen’s hands are running over every inch of bare skin she can find, catching on scars and barely healed wounds, every brush of her fingers makes Frank ache with want. He sits on the bed, pulling her down on top of him. They break away from each other’s lips and Frank takes a moment to stare at her. 

Her pale skin glows in the light the city emanates, that blonde hair a moussed halo of his own making. “God, Karen, you are so beautiful.” He whispers, his deep voice sounding harsh in the space between them. Frank’s rough hands squeeze into her hips, such ugly things compared to the woman in his arms. 

There’s a split second of panic when Frank thinks about how much he does not deserve this. 

It must show in his face because Karen’s fingers brush over his brows, smoothing away the creases. “Hey, hey, Frank. You still with me?” She murmurs, her hands wandering down to his shoulders, making him forget who he is. 

“Yeah,” He answers. “Always.” 

The smile she gives him is beatific and his new definition of happiness. Karen stands up from his lap, going for the belt of her sensible pencil skirt, undoing it with ease. Frank watches, mesmerized, as she slips out of her green blouse, the flowy material gliding down to the ground, until all that’s left is Karen Page naked except for mismatched bra and panties. He’s floored, and pretty sure that this is a dream. Except not even in his dreams could Frank conjure up the moles that dot across Karen’s pale skin, constellations that he wants to trace with his tongue. 

So he does. Frank pulls her body closer and lets his tongue mark the path of moles up from beside her bellybutton to the valley of her breasts. He’s just reaching his hand around to undo the clasp on her bra when Karen says, “ _Frank_ ” in the breathiest voice he’s ever heard and Frank thinks that his name has never sounded so sweet. “Shirt off, now.” Her hands are grasping at the cloth on his shoulders, pulling it from his body before he can fully comprehend what she’s saying. 

“Yes ma’am.” He says with a smirk as he lifts his arms obligingly. 

Karen laughs, a smile of her own playing at her lips. “Smartass.” 

They’re both still smiling when Frank lays back down across the bed, pulls her with him so there isn’t a second where they aren’t touching skin to skin. 

They spend a long time like that, stroking tongues and learning the curves of each other’s bodies. He is all gentle touches and reverent gaze. Honestly doesn’t know how he could be anything but in these moments, these first memories of togetherness with Karen. 

She fixes him with a look when they’re both naked, her poised on top of him, ready to sink home. “Frank, I’m not going to break.” She whispers. 

Frank doesn’t say anything, doesn’t know how to say it’s not her he’s scared of breaking. This, her, the curving promises of tomorrow they’ve been whispering to each other all night, is so much more than he’d ever thought he’d have again. It’s all Frank can do to keep this pace, to show Karen in every way he knows how that she is as special to him as any woman has ever been. 

There must be something in his face that betrays his thought process because Karen’s face softens and she leans down to give him a sweet kiss as she sinks down onto him. Frank breaks away, pants against her neck at the earth shattering tightness. “Karen, oh my god.” He breathes, hips rolling against hers impatiently. Karen whines above him, hands grasping at the back of his head, as a shiver runs through her body. “Move, sweetheart, you gotta move.” 

She nods and draws a shaky breath, lifting up off of him halfway before coming back down in a figure-eight that honest to God makes him choke on his tongue. Frank busies himself with swirling his tongue around one nipple, hand coming up to cup the other breast as Karen steadily works over him, bringing them closer and closer to oblivion. She’s all sweet gasps and enticing commands, telling Frank clearly where she wants him, rewarding him with her kiss when he gets it right. 

Just as they’re starting to get sloppy Karen leans forward so her hair curtains them against the world, and it’s as if they’re floating together through some unknown part of the universe. She’s shuddering, hand reaching down to rub above where they’re joined as he holds her to him, whispering the entire time, “I got you, Karen, I got you, let go now.” 

The resulting tightness around him is his destruction and Frank only vaguely hears Karen call his name, knows he says hers in return as he is delivered to that place of bliss so long denied him. 

They fall together in a heap of sweat and soft eyes, find rest in each other’s arms just as easily as they found passion. 

~

It’s still night when a siren roaring past wakes them both. Frank jolts up in bed, head on a swivel, trying to sense if there’s danger. Karen follows suit not a moment later, her hand reaching towards the nightstand in a tell-tale motion. They both realize they’re safe at the same time and give each other sheepish smiles. “Sorry I woke you up.” Frank apologizes, moving a piece of hair from her face. 

“It’s fine.” Karen replies, her hand soothing down his arm to tangle their fingers together. “Is everything okay?” 

He nods, casting a glance about the room for good measure, “Yeah, was just the siren.” He says gruffly, embarrassed at his own paranoia. Can’t even spend the night in a beautiful woman’s bed without falling prey to his issues. 

Karen hums and pulls him to lay back down with her, settling herself against his chest. Frank’s arms come up around her far too easily. He fears he’s already getting used to her warmth. 

“I don’t know how to be a good man, for you, Karen.” Frank whispers, and it’s a shitty thing to say while a woman like Karen Page is laying in his arms, naked as the day she was born, but it has to be said. She has to know. It only occurs to him after he says it that Karen probably knows him better than anybody in the world. 

She just looks at him for a long moment, her slender fingers working their way up his chest to curl around his neck. His heart flutters. “You don’t have to be a good man, Frank.” Karen says softly, pulling herself up to rest her forehead against his. He closes his eyes at the feel of her breathing, the warm brush of it against his lips. “I just want you.” 

And damn, does that sound good to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment and tell me what you think! 
> 
> This was my first time writing smut so I'm pretty nervous about it. 
> 
> Also follow me on tumblr: kamlo-ren so we can cry over Frank and Karen together


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